


{ Don't Walk That Street }

by odainath



Category: The Good Wife
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-28
Updated: 2010-09-28
Packaged: 2017-10-14 19:21:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/152600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odainath/pseuds/odainath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're going to make my life difficult, aren't you?"<br/>AU as of season 2.  They were at opposite sides of the spectrum but understood each other perfectly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	{ Don't Walk That Street }

  
  
  
**Entry tags:**|   
[alicia florrick](http://community.livejournal.com/isest_mei/tag/alicia%20florrick), [eli gold](http://community.livejournal.com/isest_mei/tag/eli%20gold), [fic:don't walk that street](http://community.livejournal.com/isest_mei/tag/fic%3Adon%27t%20walk%20that%20street), [genre:drama](http://community.livejournal.com/isest_mei/tag/genre%3Adrama), [genre:romance](http://community.livejournal.com/isest_mei/tag/genre%3Aromance), [oneshot:the good wife](http://community.livejournal.com/isest_mei/tag/oneshot%3Athe%20good%20wife), [pairing:alicia/eli](http://community.livejournal.com/isest_mei/tag/pairing%3Aalicia%2Feli)  
  
---|---  
  
 _ **{ Don't Walk That Street }**_  
 **Don't Walk That Street  
** post-S1; alicia florrick, eli gold _(the good wife)  
"You're going to make my life difficult, aren't you?"  
_

  


 _Listen to me, don’t walk that street  
There’s always an end to it  
Come and be free_

 _'Maybe Not' by Cat Power_

  
\--

She's sitting on a kitchen stool the first time _it_ truly hits, dark hair falling across her face. She is perfectly still, back straight and chin jutted forward, her eyes focused straight ahead though he doubts she is actually seeing; instead, he thinks she is caught in her own world, her own thoughts, own imagination. The first thing he sees is her ankles, long and slim, with a pair of heels dangling off the end like a glass slipper that has yet to fully fall.

“Mrs Florrick?” he says. Softly, softly – he doesn't want to startle her. He watches the muscles of her back ripple as she twists and looks over her shoulder and he's floored.

His eyes skim the tightened jaw, her smooth skin, and finally to her heavily-lidded eyes. They look to glitter in the artificial light of the apartment, hard, and he – the unflappable Eli Gold – takes an involuntary step backward.

“You heard.”

It is a statement rather than a question and he nods, only once. The press had searched and searched for a piece of dirt on the too-perfect Mrs Florrick and – finding nothing – had reverted to the old stand-by: unfounded lies and allegations from 'persons close to the Florricks' who could 'vouch to the veracity of these claims.'

“Peter's campaign?” she continues.

“There has been some... damage,” he responds carefully, “but it's repairable.”

She laughs; harsh and cruel in the otherwise silent apartment.

“As long as the campaign can get back on track.”

There is _something_ in her voice: sarcasm, sadness and pride all rolled into one. She stands, pushing the stool back, and gestures around the kitchen.

“I can't imagine Peter will be long. Feel free to help yourself to coffee.”

He says nothing as she moves past him toward her bedroom, the door swinging shut behind her, a muffled _'slam_.'

 _She is in the master bedroom. He is in maid's quarters. Not even a real marriage._

  
*

  
He goes to Lockhart and Gardner, needing Alicia's signature, and finds her alone in her office. She has her back to the door and doesn't notice his arrival and he takes a moment. Her skirt and blouse are in perfect order, her make-up and hair immaculate, and he wonders (not for a first time) how she manages to maintain such an unbreakable facade.

Eli coughs to announce himself and she swivels in the chair, her eyes narrowing as they tend to do in his presence.

“Mr Gold.”

Her voice is curt, colder than he has ever heard it, and he amends his earlier observation. Perhaps finally, finally, the cracks are starting to appear.

“If you could sign these-”

She holds her hand out before he can finish his sentence and he hands her the file, pointing at where she should sign. Neither speak as she works her way through and he stares at the floor, his attention caught by her shoes, today black and ridiculously high.

“Here.”

He starts at the sound of her voice and offers a smile she doesn't return as he takes the file and tucks it beneath his arm.

“Alicia-” he begins, unsure himself of where this conversation will head. “Are you all right?”

She raises her eyebrows, scorn etched on her every feature, and he can't help but feel like a fool.

“My life, or rather my fictitious life,” she amends bitterly, “is being played out on the television, in the papers and on-line. I am getting calls from strangers telling me what a whore I am, emails asking if these allegations are true, and I do not want to know what the office gossip is at the moment so, no, Mr Gold, I am not 'all right.'” She smiles, entirely without humour. “But I _am_ dealing with it, which is something.”

She glares at him a moment longer before pulling the keyboard towards her, the conversation clearly over.

*

  
Cameras flash, film rolls and Eli pushes Alicia forward onto the podium. She wears red today, and his eyes float to the journalist from a fashion magazine, a regular at Peter's conferences, who makes special mention of Alicia's clothing in her every article. Ridiculous, Eli thinks, the pre-occupation so many people have with clothes.

 _“Mrs Florrick; will you be answering any questions?”  
_  
He freezes and waits with bated breath as Alicia answers.

“This conference is about my husband's campaign. As such, you should direct your questions towards my husband.”

“What do have to say about Duke Ruscoe's latest claims?” the reporter continues doggedly.

A smile pulls at the corners of Alicia's mouth.

“I stopped paying attention to Duke Ruscoe sometime ago. His method of … reporting leaves a lot to be desired.”

Laughter from the crowd and Eli exhales with relief, glad that she is able to think quickly on her feet.

  
*

  
 _Women of Scandal: vote now!  
_  
His lip curls as he looks at the laptop screen. Another day, a new poll on-line, this time asking people to vote on the 'sexiest women of scandal.'

“As you can see,” he says, looking over at Peter who is rifling through the various drawers of his desk. “This latest poll could-”

“It's just a bit of fun,” Peter says, interrupting him mid-sentence. “We've dealt with worse.”

Eli grits his teeth. “It's more the... motive behind this poll. If this gets linked to a political blog...”

“Where is she ranked?”

Eli's eyes narrow as his irritation flares but he keeps this hidden as he answers. “A tie for first at the moment.”

“Not bad.”

Peter grins and Eli wants nothing more than to shake the man. Instead, he turns on his heel and walks from the room.

  
*

  
 _“Mrs Florrick; still selling your soul at Lockhart and Gardner?”  
“It's good to see you too, Mr Stern.” _

Eli looks across the hallway of the courthouse to see Alicia and Jonas Stern squared up against one another. Stern barely reaches Alicia's shoulders but his stance is aggressive and Eli finds himself crossing the floor until he stands behind her, one hand hovering close to the small of her back, clearly protective, almost possessive.

“Is there a problem?” he asks smoothly.

Alicia shakes her head. “I don't believe so.”

Stern glares at Alicia, typical short-man syndrome, Eli thinks, but after a pause gives a short nod and walks away.

“He seems charming,” Eli comments, watching Stern's retreating back.

“And to think today's a good day,” Alicia says wryly.

Eli laughs. Alicia grins and the two stand in companionable silence until both return to their senses.

“Did you want anything, Mr Gold?” Alicia asks.

“No, I'm here on another matter,” he answers.

She nods. “I forget you have other clients,” she admits. “Silly of me, really.”

Eli shakes his head. “Not at all, Mrs Florrick.”

*

  
“Oh.”

The simple sound, a single syllable, sums up the awkward situation perfectly and Eli tries a smile as he looks at Grace, who holds the door ajar, her slight frame preventing him from entering the apartment.

“I need to speak to your father,” he says patiently, needing to get past the girl. The press had been particularly vicious this week, the rumours and innuendo reaching new levels, and damage control was in desperate order. Damage control he couldn't do without speaking to Peter.

“He's... uh... busy,” Grace says, stuttering over her words.

Eli raises his eyebrows, wondering why the girl is lying, and his unspoken question is answered a moment later.

 _“Don't lie to me!”  
“There is nothing going on, Peter! I can't believe you're actually believing any of what the press is spouting!” _

An argument – tumultuous if this small part was anything to go by – and Eli gives a small nod.

“I tell you what,” he says to Grace whose expression is stricken. “I'll ring ahead and come back in ten minutes.”

She gives a small smile and he is struck by the similarity to Alicia, the upturn of her mouth was identical.

“Thank you.”

  
*

  
“Surely, you have a home to go to.”

Alicia's voice, wonderfully sardonic, pulls him out of his brief torpor and he sits upright to find her in the doorway of her office, arms folded, lips pressed together to form a thin line. He holds his hands up in mock placation and watches as her mouth twitches in an involuntary smile.

“I come in peace, Mrs Florrick,” he says as she sits down and crosses her legs, looking at him expectantly.

“On what endeavour?” she asks sarcastically.

“Peter's popularity has... lessoned,” he begins carefully, “with the stories that are going around at the moment and I believe if you gave an interview-”

“No,” she interrupts sharply. “Peter's political ambitions are his and his alone.”

“You don't approve?” he queries.

She pauses, deliberating her answer. “I'm … ambivalent,” she says finally.

“Ambivalent to something that effects you so greatly?” Eli says, disbelief dripping from every word.

Alicia smiles, though it doesn't reach her eyes. “It's a skill I've had to develop, Mr Gold. Otherwise, I would go mad.”

It's a confession, between two people who should not understand each other, yet Eli knows exactly what she means.

“Now, you must be here for a reason,” Alicia says, changing the subject entirely.

Eli waves a dismissive hand.

“Nothing that you haven't already answered.”

  
*

  
The courthouse again and Eli can't resist slipping into the courtroom. Alicia is in the middle of cross-examining a witness and he leans back into the bench as she systematically weaves a web of the lies this man has told, ultimately ensnaring him in her final question. A spider capturing her prey. The witness stutters, a mixture of excuses and apologies, and Alicia simply stands before him, a carefully measured distance away, eyes expectant.

Eli tilts his head, watching her closely. Alicia argues in her own style; one hard to imitate. Unlike Elspeth Tascioni, who used her exterior bumbling persona to trick the judge and jury; unlike Will Gardner who paced before a witness, using his hands to emphasise a point; again, unlike Diana Lockhart who tended to lean against the witness box itself, looking at the jury. No, Alicia did away with any of this posturing. Instead, she held herself tall, kept her hands still, and spoke as if she were having a topical conversation.

It was disarming and, as she had just shown, devastatingly effective.

Lawyers and audience alike get to their feet and Eli realises that court has been adjourned until further notice while the judge 'thought over the case.' He waits until the majority has left before approaching the defence bench, leaning against the table.

“Mr Gold,” Alicia greets, barely looking up as she puts various papers away into their respective folders.

“Quite the performance,” he comments as she straightens, holding the files close to her chest.

“You don't seem surprised,” she says, sounding puzzled.

Eli's brow furrows. “Why would I be?”

“Most people are,” Alicia says, raising one shoulder in a half-shrug. “That the wife of Peter Florrick would have any skill in the courtroom seems unfathomable.”

Eli laughs; a true laugh from the back of his throat.

“I've said this before, Mrs Florrick, people can be stupid.”

Alicia raises her eyebrows. “You'll have to place my husband under that umbrella,” she comments.

He falters, feeling foolish, and she gives a soft chuckle.

“Strange, isn't it?” she continues. “Just how blind those close to us can be?”

He doesn't respond as she gives a short nod and moves past him, heels a staccato beat against the hard floor.

  
*

  
 _“Florrick won't win and you know it.”_

Eli raises his head as Glenn Childs steps into his office, unannounced, with a grand proclamation. The other man looks dishevelled, he observes, his hair ruffled and tie askew.

“Do I?” Eli asks with a faux smile.

“I have eight years of evidence I can release,” Childs says through gritted teeth. “And let's not begin to discuss what I've dug up on Alicia Florrick.”

Eli's attention is piqued but he hides this as he rises to his feet and crosses the length of his office, holding the door open.

“Goodbye, Mr Childs,” he says coldly.

Childs' nostrils flare and his jaw clenches as he turns, stopping in the doorway.

“That was not an empty threat,” he warns coldly.

Eli offers another fake smile.

“Goodbye, Mr Childs.”

*

  
He hadn't been lying, Eli thinks angrily as he slams the newspaper on the kitchen counter.

“Did you not think I needed to know this?” he demands.

Alicia looks up through heavily-lidded eyes as she swipes the paper off the counter where it lands on the floor, pages scattering over the tiles.

“It's not true,” she spits, every word laced with venom. “None of it!”

Eli falters, taken aback by her tone; disdain and arrogance laced with... _something_ he isn't yet able to define.

“Do you know how damaging this is?” he asks, dismissing his observations.

At this, Alicia smirks, and he frowns as she reaches into her jacket pocket and withdraws a tape, pushing it towards him.

“What's this?” he asks, taking the tape and examining it from all angles.

She shrugs nonchalantly, and he sees her eyes are now fire. Fire and she – in her navy suit with her pale skin and dark hair – is ice.

A lethal combination.

“This is … payback,” she answers carefully.

“Payback?” he queries, confused.

“Yes,” she responds smoothly. “Let Childs know how it feels to have his life dragged through the mud.”

She rises to her feet and saunters past him. He watches her go into her bedroom before he looks once again at the tape. He has an inkling as to what will be revealed.

He stares at the floor, his attention caught by the newspaper which has fallen open at page six.

 _Another Florrick Scandal!_

Eli exhales through his nose, knowing that tomorrow's will read something entirely different.

  
*

  
Childs' popularity falters, Peter's increases, exactly as Alicia predicted and Eli wonders if she is in the wrong profession. He walks into the reception area of Lockhart and Gardner, spots Alicia in one of the halls, leaning against the wall. She is speaking with Kalinda Sharma and he approaches quietly, listening to the two women's conversation.

 _“Are you trying to tell me you had nothing to do with this?”  
“I'm not trying to tell you anything.”  
_  
He stops short around the corner as Will Gardner stops before the two and watches as Gardner's expression falls and he looks at Alicia with surprise and – mild disgust? evident in his eyes. Alicia stares back, entirely unrepentant, as if daring him to scold her. Instead, Gardner clears his throat and touches Kalinda's elbow, pulling the investigator away.

Eli rounds the corner and Alicia raises an eyebrow, as if unsurprised to find him at her work.

“I wondered how long it would take for you to get here,” she says conversationally, confirming his suspicions.

He falls into step as they walk to her office. He leans against the filing cabinets and crosses his arms.

“The tape you gave me,” he begins, “how'd you find it?”

At this, Alicia smiles, dark and wicked.

“You know the saying, Mr Gold,” she says, “ _'hell hath no fury_...'”

He laughs softly. “Of course.”

She sits back in the leather chair and crosses her legs, clearly waiting for him to speak.

“It had the desired effect. Peter's ratings...”

His sentence trails into nothing as Alicia covers her mouth, hiding a smile.

“What's funny?” he asks, genuinely curious.

“'Ratings',” she answers, “you make him sound like a reality television program.”

Eli chuckles. “I would never have made that connection.”

“Why would you?”

He frowns, annoyed that she has (not for the first time) managed to wrong-foot him with a few simple words.

“Will Gardner seems different ,” he comments, hoping to make her feel some of the same discomfort.

Alicia flicks her hair over shoulder, a gesture he has noticed she does when trying to feign nonchalance.

“Will placed me on a pedestal, and he shouldn't have,” she explains.

“And why is that?”

She shrugs. “Perfect is over-rated.”

It's another confession, between two people who are at other sides of the spectrum, yet Eli understands her sentiment perfectly.

  
*

  
 _Real versus unreal; lies versus truth._

Eli can't help but wonder when the two became so entwined it was impossible to tell one from another. His fingers drum against his desk, one inch away from the paper he bought on the street only minutes ago.

 _Florrick's Wife Brings Lawsuit Against Husband's Former Office!_

Colin Sweeney had been killed in prison, found in his cell with a shank buried deep in his throat, and Alicia's firm was suing the State's Office. Eli kneads his temples as he looks at the photograph on the front page. Alicia, sitting at Sweeney's right, his hand too close to hers for comfort. To an outsider this would scream familiarity, but Eli can see the faint curl of Alicia's lip, highlighting her want for Sweeney to move away.

However, years of keeping composure and smiling for the cameras meant no one but the most observant would see this.

Eli closes his eyes. Briefly thinks that this campaign is more trouble than it's worth.

  
*

  
 _“I warned you once, Mrs Florrick-”_

Eli increases his pace when he sees Glenn Child's in Alicia's office. He has moved forward until Alicia's legs hit the desk and she cannot step out, boxed in as it were. Childs is a good half-foot taller, intimidating by anyone's standards, and Eli watches as he reaches out to grab Alicia's wrist, only to be slapped away.

 _“Don't you-”  
“Is there a problem?” _

Eli's voice is deceptively calm, laced with anger and a – protectiveness? he hadn't been expecting. Childs lets his hand fall and takes a step backward, still glowering at Alicia who stares back, angry and unafraid.

“I think you should leave, Mr Childs,” she says coldly.

Eli holds the door open and Childs storms past. Both watch his retreating back until he turns the corner. Alicia lets out a rattling breath and he is at her side in an instant.

“Alicia?”

“I'm fine,” she says, giving a small smile. “Really.”

Eli scowls. “I wish I had gotten here earlier.”

“Playing the white knight wouldn't suit you, Mr Gold.”

He blinks once, slowly, before letting out a harsh bark of laughter.

After a moment, Alicia joins in.

  
*

  
“Peter's not here.”

Eli follows Alicia into the kitchen and he frowns as he sees the many news cuttings on the bench, sitting next to a large scrapbook.

“Grace's latest school project,” Alicia explains, answering his unspoken question. “Explaining how we, the public, are manipulated by the media.”

“Ah.”

“You should give her some pointers, Mr Gold.”

His eyes fly to hers and he opens his mouth to give a scathing retort but falters, seeing only humour with no trace of malice.

“Perhaps,” he concedes.

He stays silent as she pours them both a cup of coffee and pushes one across to him.

“And where are the kids?” he asks, taking a sip and scalding his tongue.

“Peter's taken them to a film,” Alicia answers. “'Bonding time.'”

He can detect bitterness there and places his coffee on the bench and reaches forward, touching her forearm lightly.

“Alicia?”

“I just wonder,” she says, looking down at his hand, “if they'd forgive me so readily.”

Eli shrugs, his long fingers floating upward and glancing against her cheek. “Doubtful,” he admits, “I've always thought women fared far worse than men where infidelity is concerned.”

She blinks, but doesn't draw away, and both start at the sound of the door being unlocked. His hand snaps back inhumanly quickly and by the time Peter and the kids get to the kitchen he and Alicia are on opposite sides of the bench.

“Eli?” Peter says, sounding none-too-pleased to see him.

“Sorry, but we need to go through these.”

Peter nods and Alicia ushers the kids into the living room.

  
*

  
“Is he going to win?”

Eli sighs, pondering his answer.

“Honestly, Alicia? I don't know.”

“Hmm.”

They are in her office, he stopping by to speak of the campaign's latest 'developments.' (He won't admit that there is the possibility of an ulterior motive.)

“I wish this were over,” she admits, running a hand through her hair.

“Another two months, Alicia,” Eli assures. “Then you can forget you've ever met me.”

He gives a self-deprecating laugh she doesn't join.

  
*

  
 _“He can't do this without you.”  
_  
Peter's mother, Jacqui, gives Alicia an insipid smile the other woman doesn't return. Another press conference, followed by another dinner. All part of the monotony that a campaign entailed. Alicia moves past Jacqui and Eli steps out and offers her a glass of champagne she accepts with a smile.

“Do you know these people?” she asks, gesturing around the room.

“Only by reputation.”

“Do tell, Mr Gold.”

He laughs, she smirks, and the two stand in a comfortable silence. One shattered when Peter waves enthusiastically for Alicia to join him. She sighs and hands Eli her now-empty champagne glass.

“Time to give my 'good house-keeping seal of approval',” she says drily, echoing his words from months back.

“I'd prefer your legal seal of approval,” Eli retorts, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Ha.”

She says nothing further as she weaves her way through the crowd to her husband's side. Peter wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her close, and Eli's jaw clenches at the scene of domesticity the two now show.

 _Good house-keeping seal of approval.  
_  
Sometimes, he marvels at how truly gullible voters were.

  
*

Peter makes it through the first round of voting and Eli knocks on the door of Alicia's office, a bottle of wine and two glasses in his hand.

“He made it through,” Alicia states, voice unemotive.

Eli nods as he closes the door behind him with his foot and places the bottle on her desk, setting the glasses alongside.

“Isn't champagne the typical celebratory drink?” she asks, raising a perfectly-groomed eyebrow.

“I wasn't sure if you'd be pleased or displeased,” Eli explains, opening the bottle. “Wine covers all bases.”

Alicia laughs, one that bubbles from the back of her throat as Eli pours them both a glass. He leans against her desk, she reclines in her chair.

“Why are you here, Mr Gold?” she queries, finishing her wine and placing the glass on the desk. “Surely, you should be celebrating elsewhere.”

He falters and watches as she gathers her things together. She rises to her feet, goes to move past, and he catches her wrist, keeping her in place.

“I don't know,” he admits.

Alicia doesn't move as he pushes himself from the desk, now a mere two-foot away.

“I don't know,” he repeats softly.

He raises his other hand, his fingers floating over her shoulder, up her neck, finally cupping her cheek. Alicia stills as he leans downward, and her fingers tighten around his as he brushes his lips against hers softly. Her lips feel cold against his and her hand breaks out of his to tangle in his hair.

Eventually, he pulls back, only to rest his forehead against hers.

“You're going to make my life difficult, aren't you?” he asks.

She nods. He smiles; kisses her again.  
 


End file.
